The First Night
by Trekkieb
Summary: The first in the "Homecoming Series." It's John Carter's first night in Atlanta.


**Disclaimer**: The characters of ER do not belong to me. They are owned by NBC, and other big names. No money is made from this work of fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended in the least.   
**Rating:** G - PG   
**Summary:** # 1 in the Homecoming Series, several missing scenes for the ER season premiere, "Homecoming." Spoilers for that and "May Day," last season's finale. As the title says, it's John Carter's first night in Atlanta. 

Italics mean flashback. :-) 

The First Night   
**By [Trekkieb][1]**

  


The room was small, but not unbearable. It held a twin-sized bed, a small nightstand with lamp and alarm clock, a narrow dresser, a writing desk, and a chair. A medium sized window overlooked a slightly overgrown green lawn, and on one wall, a door led to a small private bath. 

On the bed was a neutral colored bedspread. Not new, but it was clean. On top of the bedspread, John Carter lay stretched out, fully clothed. He'd been too tired to take the additional time to change into pajamas. The last time he'd looked at his watch, it had been about two-thirty in the morning. 

What kind of a place held group meetings at two-thirty in the morning? 

* * *

_John Carter? the man asked as Carter walked into the room.___

_A second passed as Carter took stock of the situation. The speaker was a dark haired man of roughly his own height. His hair was perfectly combed, despite the late hour. He had a friendly face.___

_Also in the room, a number of chairs were clustered together, most of them occupied by men and women alike.___

_John shook himself mentally and finally replied, _

* * *

The meeting hadn't lasted very long, thankfully, but he'd been miserable the entire thirty or forty minutes. He was fatigued, sweating, nauseous, and all around uncomfortable. How did they expect a guy to do anything productive at that time of night with a stomach that wouldn't settle down and hands that wouldn't stop shaking? It was unreasonable, in his opinion. 

But he had gotten through the group session, and without throwing up. That would have been the ultimate embarrassment. Then again, if he had, maybe they would have given him the compasine sooner. 

Eventually, though, they had given him a shot to calm his rebellious stomach, and he'd been shown to his room. 

* * *

_Welcome to your home for the next three months.___

_This is it? he asked Margaret, the woman from the front desk, after she flung the door open wide. He shrugged his duffle off his shoulder and set it on the floor, looking around dubiously.___

_What'd you expect, the Ritz-Carlton? she retorted with a certain amount of amusement.___

_No, I suppose not, he said absently.___

_You can put your stuff in there, she continued, pointing at the dresser. And the bathroom's through there. You can sleep in tomorrow, since you arrived so late, but breakfast is served at eight o'clock.___

_Margaret bade him goodnight and left, closing the door behind her.___

_Carter sighed, a feeling of loneliness washing over him. Three months seemed like an awfully long time._

* * *

The curtains were pulled back, and the pale moonlight streaked in through the open window. The milky light cast eerie shadows on the ceiling, and he remembered the times when sleep was elusive that he and his brother had argued over what a particular shadow resembled. 

He sighed at the direction his thoughts were going in and rolled over onto his side, hands tucked under his pillow. The digital numbers on the bedside alarm clock glowed red. When he closed his eyes, the afterimage stayed on the backs of his eyelids. 

He wished he could fall asleep. He was so tired And he was sure he'd feel better if he could just catch a couple solid hours of shut-eye. 

But it was strange being there. Carter wasn't a man prone to homesickness; however, he couldn't help but wonder what his coworkers were doing. 

One by one, he placed where his friends would most likely be, from Greene to Deb to Malucci. 

And, as he sometimes did, he thought of Lucy Knight. 

* * *

_How can you eat that stuff? Lucy asked, watching with fascination as John took a huge bite from his chili cheese dog. I mean, you're a doctor. You should know better.___

_Ifm mgoog.___

_ she laughed.___

_Carter swallowed and sipped his soda. It's good. And I'm sure it tastes better than whatever it is you're eating, he added. A pointed look at her plate showed just what he thought of her selection of cafeteria cuisine.___

_Lucy looked down at her plate too, smiling a little. What? It's healthy.___

_Carter shook his head in mock amazement. Live a little, Luce.___

_Before he could say any more, a shrill beeping erupted from his pager. A quick glance confirmed that it was important. It's the ER, he said, setting down his napkin. He slid out of his chair, and then leaned down close. Enjoy your lunch.___

_As he walked away, he heard her call out, I plan to, and couldn't help but chuckle._

* * *

From the first time they met, the two of them had never gotten along very well. That day was one of the very few times they had spent time together of their own volition. It wasn't that they hated each other; they were just two headstrong people that rarely saw eye to eye on things. 

John wished there had been more lunches like that, where they were both relaxed and joking and smiling. 

But Lucy wouldn't be smiling anymore, because she was dead. 

He opened his eyes. 

He regretted the way he had treated her that night. Sure, he'd been busy with his own patients, not having a very good day, but those were feeble excuses. And the end result was the same. 

And after The regret had turned to guilt. 

Since Lucy's death and his own attack, it seemed like his life had been stuck in a downward spiral motion. 

At first, he had just taken a little more than the prescribed dosage of pain meds. Just when the pain in his back prevented him from sleeping well. But he still never managed to capture a good night's rest, and the pain was still there. And so he'd thought that nobody would notice a few CCs missing here and there from the ER. 

He'd been wrong of course. They had been noticed. They had been missed. 

Carter stared at his cell phone where it lay beside the alarm clock. He replayed the past four or five hours. 

They'd formed an intervention group, of all things. With Anspaugh no less! At the time he'd been furious at them all. Things had been said. Things had been done. 

He'd punched Peter Benton. 

Oh, man. Carter pressed his face into the pillow in mortification. 

He couldn't _believe_ he did that. And he couldn't believe he'd started crying, either. 

Surprisingly, though, Benton hadn't struck back. Instead, he'd pulled John close into a brotherly embrace. It was the last thing Carter expected, but it was the one thing he needed most at the time. 

And so he'd found himself on an Atlanta-bound plane with Peter Benton, the man that he'd strived to emulate since day one at Cook County General. The great Dr. Peter Bentonhis friend. 

As that last thought drifted through his mind, he was already falling asleep. 

* * *

Stay Tuned For **The Last Night**.... 

Back to the [Fanfic Page][2]   
  
  
  


   [1]: mailto:trekkieb_99@yahoo.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/trekkieb_99/fanfic.html



End file.
